Walking Backwards
by Twisted Trans-Sister
Summary: Wonderland has the ability to drive the most sensible person insane. But on the other side is a place guaranteed to drive you positively sane. Hatter X OC
1. Gninnigeb Eht

Summary: Wonderland has the ability to drive the most sensible person insane. But on the other side is a place guaranteed to drive you positively sane. Hatter X OC (Depp version)

____

"Wake up! Wake up ya ninny!"

There was an unpleasant wake-up call for Fidget as the little bird boxed her head with his little toy sword, his feathered helmet ruffled by the early-morning chill. She opened her eyes groggily, only to snap them shut as the bird rapped on the tangled mess of hair with the wooden sword again.

"Up! Up! It's time for mornin' call! Rouse those troops ya buffle-brained-"

"I'm up, I'm up!" Fidget protesting, shooing the bird away as it squawked over her head, "Go back to your own damn perch Promethius!" Normally she wouldn't speak in such a tone to her commanding officer, but it was 6:30 a.m. on the dot and she was grumpy. With one hand swatting at the little blue bird, she reached over to her very white bugle with the other, and stuck her head out the window to the barracks. With her usual routine, she tooted out the _Revelry_, awaking the entire camp. Promethius, swooping out the window with his little wings a-flapping, screeched out.

"Wake up troops! March, march, march!"

"_May_!"

"No, _**MARCH**_!"

______

You're probably dead confused. Here's the story.

This is the world of Dnalrednow (pronounced exactly duh-nal-red-now), the land existing on the opposite plane of Wonderland. It's easily accessible through a series of caves that slowly turn you upside-down until Dnalrednow seems right side up when you pop out the other side. Unlike Wonderland, everything is strict order and sense, only two colors and two neutral shades allowed; blue and red, black and white. The realm revolves around these four to a T, everything sharp and in order. Other colors are strictly forbidden, and the wearing, sporting, or use of any other color can result in severe punishment, like four hours of skipping rope on hot coals, or singing extremely boring, extremely unpleasant war songs to the sound of iced tea being stirred for nine hours....or to be forced to sit through the said recitation. Should something fall into a deeper hue, or lighter shade of black or white, or should red seem a little more pink, or blue a little more aqua...it must be carted off at once to receive strict re-coloration at the Correctional Facilities. Strict is as strict does, and the entire realm of Dnalrednow is run on the entirety of sense and rule-following.

Another rule, the oldest of them all, is that visits to "_the other side_" are even more strictly forbidden. Should one be caught in the attempt, or found to have already been to the other side, they will be immediately executed following a fair, long, exhaustingly boring trial. Once they have been properly beheaded, the blood is cleaned up only once it has turned a slight shade of brown.

In light of this rule, visitors from the other side are not allowed in Dnalrednow either.

The army is the pride of the realm, large, efficient, and composed of the finest, rule-abiding citizens. At exactly 30 seconds after 7 a.m. they are roused by Fidget, the army trumpeter. Why Fidget? Well, after taking a long questionnaire and practical exam on what to pursue in the future, the trumpet lay perfect and able for her use. She didn't mind trumpeting, on the occasion where protocol allowed her some free time she enjoyed playing a more care-free tune. But being awakened by an annoying lieutenant to blow out _Revelry_in the morning and 30 seconds before meals was repetitive and boring. It chapped her lips and she knew the tune so well she could have done it in her sleep.

There was freedom of choice in uniform colors...they had to have some flexibility in the army after all, and there were different preferences in color. The uniforms were manufactured the same way, but some preferred all white, some all black, some black and white, some blue and red. And so on.

Fidget picked blue and black, a stiff tunic with puffed shoulders, long crisp sleeves, diamond buttons, and trousers, complete with pointed, shiny boots. But she regretted her decision...despite the orderliness of the suit, she looked like a bruise. But once you picked your colors, there was to be no going back, no complaining, and no switching. You got what you got. So now Fidget was stuck with twenty identical black and blue suits (it paid to be prepared you know), and would be stuck with those colors until she retired from the army. Unfortunately, retirement papers took five years to fill out, and two extra years to be mailed, read, and approved by the proper authorities.

She brushed out her hair, a thick mess of blue, into equal parts, smoothing it down with gel so that Promethius would have fewer excuses to criticize her appearance. He was a small blue-bird, but because he kept his birdhouse in symmetrical order, had his feathers well groomed, and followed orders right down to the period, he rose to lieutenant in the army. You wouldn't think there was a more rule-abiding officer in the world, but there was. That's how they organized things.

The King was orderly and rule-abiding to the last, despite his rare appearances among his followers.

Fidget was fortunate not to be joining the soldiers in their perfect routine. She'd surely fall out of line, or cause the blue in her tunic to grow a slightly darker blue with sweat, or make some mistake. There were no mistakes with the trumpet because it was so easy. It was doing more than that, like filing papers, marching to the_ Revelry_, and doing orderly things that was the trouble. She managed it, but not without falling into bed at the end of the day out of sheer exhaustion. But now that she had the time, she dangled her arms and head out of the attic in the tower of the main building, her sleeping quarters, and listened to Promethius ramble on to the attention of his awe-struck troops.

"Listen up collection of male and female troops!" he blared on in his chirpy voice, "Today marks the 100th anniversary of this outpost's construction! After some tedious paper work, the heads of our corporation have decided to have a celebratory parade, with us marching at the head! We are to arrive exactly one hour following dinner to the captial square for our initial march! Do I make myself clear?"

"_Sir yes sir_!" chorused the troops. Incredible. They even blinked in unison.

They marched off in single file as Fidget sighed. If her hair didn't have a curl pop up, maybe she'd survive the breakfast call.

_____

"Curious!"

The Mad Hatter, on the other side in Wonderland, peeked into a large cave, the mouth of it wide and gaping. It had a perfectly square tunnel, leading off where, who knows. The Hatter should have known better than to go snooping about in dark holes, you'd think he'd have learned that much from Alice, but it was a curiosity and the Hatter was curious about it, so in he went.

The cave was...interesting. Stairs that seemed to go against natural gravity and dimension* were piled every where, some on the ceiling going one way, some on the ground leading another way to the ceiling to go another way to the side. Normally, one wouldn't think they would need the spare dimensions, but it was interesting, so interesting that the Hatter went climbing down and up each one, keeping a tight grip on the brim of his hat as he found himself upside down on the ceiling...or maybe it was right side up on the floor. He walked around in delight, until he found himself back the entrance. It looked a tad bit queer now...the sides of the wall still perfectly square, but in an exact shade of black on one side, and an exact shade of white on the other. It was so sharp and it made the Hatter's eyes ache just to look at it. He would have proceeded further, but two guards (one in an exact shade of blue, the other and exact shade of red) leaped out at the entrance.

"_Halt_!" they cried in unison. The Hatter stopped quite suddenly at their appearance.

"No one from the other side may pass!" said the blue one.

"Return to your realm at once!" said the red one.

"My realm?" the Hatter repeated curiously, "But then which realm is this one?"

"This is the land of Dnalrednow!" said the Blue. "And according to the first law, second clause, fourth paragraph of the official rulebook of Dnalrednow, no one from the other side is allowed entry!"

"Exactly so!" said the Red, "If you attempt to proceed, we shall be forced to go to our superiors for your lengthy trial, lengthier summary of the trial, and the rather short verdict, and afterward, immediate execution via beheading!"

"In any case," the Blue said, looking discerningly over the Hatter's attire, "You are not following strict colorization codes." The Hatter twitched. Just what was wrong with his clothes?

"You do not have exact shades of either, black, white, red, or blue!" the Red said, pointing at the hat, "You wouldn't be able to take four steps without being noticed!"

The Hatter stopped all movement. This wasn't Wonderland. This must be the opposite. No one else would be so extremely, uncomfortably strict. With a easy-going, relaxing smile, the Hatter took a single step onto the black and white area of the tunnel.

"Perhaps if we just talked this over.." he started persuasively, but was cut off by a yelp from the soldiers.

"The floor! The floor!" howled the Blue in agony

"It's...it's _speckled_!" the Red wailed in equal torment. They looked and pointed at the Hatter.

"You had dirt on your shoes villain!" they roared in unison. They picked up some brooms in stiff white on the side, "Now there's brown where there's supposed to be _only_ black and white! We've got to have it cleaned immediately!"

They hurried over to the dirtied spot, and fell into such a frenzy of cleaning and scrubbing that they did not notice the Hatter slipping past and walking nonchalantly into Dnalrednow...leaving a scruffy trail of dirt for them to clean up.

___

"Hold it right there Fidget!"

Fidget froze in mid-step. What now? Her hair hadn't untangled from it's stiff helmet of gel, and the short bob was curled in exact, equal halves on the sides of her head. She'd checked the mirror repeatedly. Her clothes hadn't had the slightest wrinkle. What was Promethius yelling about now?

Grudgingly, she turned around, snapping her heels together and saluting with a heavy sigh, "Yes sir?"

"You must go to the Correctional Facilities at once!" he said, aflutter with panic and pointing a wing at her imperiously.

"What for?" she asked, "Sir?" she added quickly.

"_Your hair_!" he said with disgust, already writing out a form of paper, "Look at the roots! Look!"

She couldn't deny a direct order, so pulling out her little hand mirror, she looked. Sure enough, despite the equal sides, she'd overlooked the roots...which were receding back to a darker hue of blue. Navy blue. It wasn't exactly blue so that meant-

"Get moving!" Promethius trilled, slapping the sticky end of the Correctional Form onto her chest. These forms were carried by law-enforcement so that if someone were to receive an out-of-color problem, they would receive immediate attention. Disregard to these forms, or even worse, _throwing them away_, was received with a trial and the eventual punishment of scrubbing the floors of the Correctional Center...and those floors could get down-right filthy. With another salute she trudged off. She'd miss the parade, but there wasn't much to miss. It was like every parade before it, every day repeating itself over and over. People repeated themselves to protect themselves from change. Change meant anarchy, rebellion, destruction. The build-up of the realm had taken over a thousand years. The world was perfect. But it stayed a single frame of time frozen...and that's just how everyone else liked it. Everyone else, save for Fidget. What was worth the woes of one measly trumpeter anyway?

Welcome to Dnalrednow. Enjoy your time, it won't move.

___

*Think of Escher's painting of stairs


	2. Elbuort Erom Neve

Summary: Wonderland has the ability to drive the most sensible person insane. But on the other side is a place guaranteed to drive you positively sane. Hatter X OC (Depp version)

Authors Note: Just in time for V-day! Happy Singles Awareness Day everyone!

____

Fidget chose to take the longest way to the Correctional Facilities. Sure the lobby would be empty for the parade...but there would still be a long waiting period for file sorting, organizing, setting up...and then there was the cleaning itself. Usually it took three hours for a usual clean-up, although her hair would only take about an hour. Still, she'd leave the place feeling stiff and crisp, with the stench of starch watering up her eyes. Thank god they didn't need to scrub her down, last time she'd left with several scrapes on her face and stomach.

She trudged through the park...black trees with exactly blue or exactly red flowers. The walkways were white...but everything look sharp and clean to a fault. Fidget liked her homeworld a little, but would it hurt to have just _one_ hue be a little different than the rest? Pink. Pastel blue. Ashy black and pearly white. She longed to wear those colors without fear of having a written form for cleaning stamped on her chest, to let her hair go curly, to play rhythm and rhyme rather than _Revelry_in the morning. Fidget...out of all things...wanted to look as she was. A person like Fidget wasn't meant for starched uniforms, strict rules, and army duties. Fidget was meant to toodle out songs as she pleased, wearing whatever she found in the closet, and having her hair go everywhere.

But not here. Things had to stay the same, things had to stay perfect. For the sake of the empire.

___

The Hatter was going postively sane. Not only was everything a strict four colors, but everything was so _clean_. Picture frames hung so that if you placed a marble on top, it wouldn't even twitch in one direction. The sun was exactly white, but the sky wasn't sky blue...but a strict _blue_, blue. The trees were perfectly triangular, symmetrical to a fault. Everything had such sharp textures that the Hatter rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time. This place was perfectly dreadful! Even though he'd left tracks of dirt from his shoes, the trail had ended long ago. This place practically_ forced_ you to be clean.

Oh right. And he'd hadn't seen anyone since those funny guards at the entrance. Well at least he wasn't following a white rabbit.

Finally, he spotted someone. A young lady in a clean, tidy attire of black and blue, with hair just beginning to curl out of its cage of gel. She was pale, with red eyes (exactly red) and was quite short, the hairs of her head only able to brush against the Hatter's chin. A trumpet of white brass was dangling off a black leather strap on her waist. She also looked extremely exhausted and dour. Someone obviously missed tea-time.

The Hatter was about to call out to her, but she noticed him first, going even whiter at his appearance. Seriously. She must have been...

....One of the weirdest men she'd ever seen!

Fidget, forgetting all about preliminary classes on how to look at a person without disrupting symmetry, gawked at the stranger. Not only was he untidy and dirty, but the colors weren't anything close to matching the strict color rules. The clothes didn't make him look sharp, rather, they gave off an almost smudged appearance against the crispness of his surroundings. His hair was a wild orange, _orange_of all things, and mashed underneath a hat that would've made Promethius faint if he saw it. His bowtie, his shoes, his gloves...well he was just outrageously different.

So why was Fidget feeling so elated at the sight.

"An...an other-sider?" she finally stuttered. The Hatter grinned broadly at her star-struck gaze.

"That's a popular nickname for me isn't it? But I'm not from the 'other side' as you say. _You're_the other-sider."

"What? No I'm not." Fidget argued. Madness it was. _He_ was in _her_ world so that made _him_the other-sider. A spark of realization just hit her then. If he was caught...even more so in Fidget's company, he'd have his head chopped off in approximately 15 hours within being found...after all...the trial for breaking the first rule of Dnalrednow required the presence of the king himself, and his intial entry would take two hours. The trial itself would be so horribly long...and what happened at the end was just too much. She squeaked in this horrid realization and try to usher him back the way he came.

"But you must go home immediately!" she said in a panic, "If you're found-"

"I can always say I got lost," he said cheekily swerving her so that he was pushing the way. Fidget was quick to reverse the situation once again.

"If you got past the guards then they'll think you did it on purpose! And then they'll back it up with hours and hours of extensive evidence evaluation!"

"Then you'd better take care of me," the Hatter said in a final tone, making it clear by the look on his face that he wasn't budging. Fidget dug her heels into the ground and tried to keep him from dragging her along, but he was taller, and Fidget wasn't of the same body build as the soldiers were. She whined as she was pulled along by a curious foreigner, but stopped him with one plea.

"But you at least need a disguise," she said in a doggish whine, "If someone saw you, you'd be behind the prosecution table before you can blink."

The Hatter thought it over. This girl was odd. This world was odd. Tea-time was definitely out of the question. Also, he did want to take a closer look at this strange realm a little longer. To prolong exploration, camoflauge was needed. The girl was a local who wanted to camoflauge him. Splendid. "Alright then. Make me invisible!" He declared. Fidget pushed him behind a grove of bushes, each one a perfect square of white and red.

"Just stay put and I'll find something that'll do until I can sneak you into the Correctional Facilities to hide yourself," she whispered. She didn't know if the parade was passing through here, and wasn't taking her chances. Fidget took a couple steps forward, but then turned around with a flush.

"Err...what's your name?"

"The Mad Hatter."

"...."

"What?"

"Nothing."

_____

Using her own bedsheets and snagging a spare sheet from the stack of correctional requisitions, she quickly bundled him up until he looked very much like a ghost with a piece of paper stuck to his chest. She pulled him by the arm through a shortcut in the park to where they would eventually arrive at the employee's entrance at the Correctional Facilities.

"The form ought to clear any questions," Fidget explained. Mr. Hatter (as she'd chosen to call him) couldn't see for the life of him, and kept tripping over the length of the sheet that hid his shoes, "If we're found, we'll just say we're getting corrected."

"Corrected for what, exactly."

"Being imperfect." The Hatter couldn't believe his ears. Where had he landed after all? "But what is imperfection...per say?" he asked.

"Being asymmetrical, your clothes not being the right shade of blue, red, black, or white, being too dirty, or looking faded. I forget the rest," Fidget said. "Lucky for us, almost everyone is at the parade, so the people up front won't be tidying up or setting up or anything."

"But what's wrong with imperfection?"

Fidget halted in her tracks. She'd never even considered the question. She only knew what was drilled into her from birth. Perfection is essential. Without perfection, all shall crumble. But what happens with imperfection? Silence...they feel that the opposite must go for imperfection. The very statement that the lack of perfection equaled destruction was enough to shut off any further questions. But was imperfection bad?

"I don't know." Fidget admitted. "But it's just the way things must be done here. It's the way things _have_ to be here."

"Why?"

"I don't know!" Fidget was getting uncomfortable at all his questions. Thinking about something other than her duties and her homeland was out of the question. They'd chop her head off for even considering it. "It's been a starched, symmetrical, solid color world forever and its going to _be_ that way forever! _Okay_? Does that answer everything?!"

The Hatter couldn't be seen under the sheet, but she could feel his smile through the white barrier. "So you really don't like it?"

She flinched. She'd walked right into that. She turned back to the path, the rectangular offices of the Correctional Facility coming into view. "I'm not supposed to talk about it. I was born here, I was raised here, and that's not going to change anytime soon."

They were lucky. The Correctional Facility was empty, with only two or three employees faithfully manning the desk while everyone else was crisp, clean, and well starched for the parade. The back door had been locked, but Fidget found that the Hatter was strong enough, and tall enough, to hoist her through a cracked window in the dressing room. It was quite embarassing having him grabbing onto her knees like that, his hands were bigger and rougher, and having the callused skin and scratchy material of his gloves press against the thin layer of her trousers was perfectly scandalous. She didn't even want to think about how many regulations she was breaking now. But she squeezed through, and then opened up the back door for the Hatter. They made themselves busy in the closet, Fidget hiding him in an emptier space of the dark closet while handing him wigs, powder for his face, clothes and other articles, whipping her head out the door nervously as she looked out for anyone coming by.

"We'll be in so much trouble," she whimpered, unable to conceal her guilt. "I'll be slaving away at that boring recital and you'll be stuck up a rectangular river without a triangular paddle...and going down at a rate of 360 degrees."

"You're too fussy and worried," the Hatter said coolly, while trying on clothes in the cramped closet. "We've been in luck so far. Why not stay so?"

"Because luck never takes you far," she was shivering, holding up wigs to hide her expression, "You get on your high horse with all your luck and then-"

"Do you have a form?"

Fidget had to restrain herself from screaming. An attendant obviously heard her. Smiling uneasily, she let out a squeaky giggle.

"Oh of course!" said, handing it to the attendant, "Sorry, I was just uh...helping my friend here. He's a bit bashful so you can just turn around and let me take care of it!" she said quickly, defensively. The attendany, though non-plussed, wasn't shaken off. "Nonsense. It's my duty to correct everyone who comes in so if you may-" the attendant start pulling Fidget away fromt the door, with her reaction panicky.

"No wait!"

Too late. With the closet door swung wide open, the Hatter was caught. Now if Fidget had remained quiet, she might have been able to get away scot free. However, what she saw was so ridiculous that she couldn't help herself-

"You didn't even change?!"

Immediately regretting her decision, she clapped a hand over her mouth the moment the words flew from her lips, but the damage was done. The attendant fled, raising the alarm. "Intruders! Anarchists! Orange!" he cried, and red lights began to flash. The Hatter didn't waste his time as Fidget shrieked in panic, grabbing her by the upper arm and yanking her out the back door. Fortunately, it was proper protocol for all non-employees to enter through the front, so all the troops that marched their way in missed the two by a mile. Fidget huffed and panted as she ran with the Hatter, his grip on her arm still vice-strong.

"We've really done it now!" she wailed as she ran, not wise as it labored her breathing, "I won't be surprised if they go through a hundred, million trials and punishments for this!"

"Then we'll simply have to head back!" the Hatter exclaimed. He didn't like Dnalrednow much anyway. Fidget looked at him wide-eyed. "Going back," as he'd said, didn't mean back to the park, or just the cave. It meant going waaaaay back. Beyond the cave entrance...to the other side.

___

"Aggh! He's left trails of dirt again!"

"Eek! I got some on my shoes!"

The guards, after having the Hatter distract them with another trail of mismatched footsteps, were no problem.


	3. Sroloc Eht Dna, Tah Eht, Tac Eht

Summary: Wonderland has the ability to drive the most sensible person insane. But on the other side is a place guaranteed to drive you positively sane. Hatter X OC (Depp version)

___

The staircases were making Fidget dizzy. How many times had they turned down stair ways...and since when did the ceiling tilt so very peculiarly?

"They won't follow us in, right?" the Hatter asked, still keeping a grip on Fidget's arm, "Its against the law, no matter what?"

"No matter what..." Fidget whimpered piteously, "I am in _sooo_ much trouble..."

"Nonsense!" Mr. Hatter objected, trotting up yet another flight of stairs, "You're only in trouble when you get caught!" He yanked a little more firmly on her arm, pulling her along the path more quickly than before. Fidget objected by very firmly yanking her hand back. "I can walk you know," she reprimanded, "And with all your tugging I daresay you'll give me bruises."

"Well if you'd just put a little more spring in your step we wouldn't have to!" he chided, flustering his hands. They continued to walk, Mr. Hatter feeling rather pleased at escaping an entire country of perfectionists, Fidget feeling rather ill at what kind of terror she may find on the other side. She'd heard stories that there were ten and a half foot tall beasts roaming the countryside, swamps filled with a rather foul-smelling fluid, and all other forms of asymmetry, discoloration, and lawlessness. Of course, she'd already known well it was for keeping young, toddling children from wandering too far from the ironed skirts of their mothers. That still didn't keep her from shaking, paler than usual, and now pressing a spare white napkin against her mouth. Maybe they found such things odd on the other side, because Mr. Hatter certainly did.

"I don't reccommend eating your napkin you know," he noted, "Did that once in a very hasty tea party, jumbled up with hot tea and crumpets..." he shivered, "I was absent for tea parties for days."

"I feel a dashed queasy." Fidget admitted, "Is it true that they have te-ten and a half foot beasts there?"

"And taller!" Mr. Hatter nodded excitably, "And sometimes at the tea parties there's-" he looked around, before leaning in and looking positively horrified, "_Cold tea_. Frightening!" This did not brighten Fidget's palor, as she turned a shade of green at the thought of encountering some nasty beast in her unwilling travels. She was yanked from these thoughts as Mr. Hatter gave an eager tug as he burst into a run.

"At last! Here we are!"

And then Fidget found herself speechless. Color. Not muted and faded as she'd guessed, but not crisp and sharp like it was back home. Rather, it was a flowing blend of colors, not just blue, red, white and black, but green, purple, orange, brown, to the point where no color looked alike. Back home, flowers were capable of being perfectly identical down to the last triangular petal. But even flowers of the same type didn't share anything; one poppy had a slightly lighter shade of red, like pink, while its sister poppy was something like an orange red. Fidget very quickly mimicked the enthusiasm of Mr. Hatter, looking and comparing everything.

"All...all this color! Look at this! They're nothing like the explanatory warning classes showed them!" She picked up a leaf, tinted something that was both blue and green. "Quick! What's this color called?"

"Its...turquoise." Mr. Hatter looked quite mollified at her excitement.

"_Turquoise_ you say? How marvelous! It's like green _and_ blue! And which is this?!" she held up another flower.

"Pink."

"Eek! But really?!"

Fidget enjoyed herself the entire way. However, Mr. Hatter, while amused that she was enjoying just the colors, was also a little impatient. The'd have started maybe ten tea parties without him and damn it all if he didn't get his tea soon!"

"This! This!" she held up a smooth stone, "Which one? It's like white, but different!"

"Yellow."

"Then what's-"

"Gray,"

Fidget was like a mathmetician in a small boxed office with an assignment on the further investigation of pi. Even as she learned the names of all the colors (and even the names of a color with a hue) she could get over the excitement of the asymmetry of it, the scuffyness of the place. Everything was scrubbed as clean as science allowed back home, but the feel of grainy dirt staining the leather of her shoes felt amazing, the darkness of sweat from a long walk giving the sweated sides of her suit a navy blue color, how her hair had finally broken free of its hair gel shell, curling and fanning out over her eyes like the curve of a shell. Since the dye was still wearing out, her hair was turning a darker blue as well, and she loved the tickling hairs on her ears. She pointed towards the mushrooms.

"Lets go look at those again. These are dark colored than the last ones."

"Oh those! Those I'd be careful with....they've give you these enormous, nasty boils, and when you sit on them-"

"Yo-you don't need to continue!" Fidget squeaked. There was only so much a girl wanted to know. They walked along in prostrated silence, Fidget having calmed down considerably. Then she turned quite nonchalantly to Mr. Hatter.

"My name's Fidget."

"Okay."

"Fidget Quigly actually."

"Okay."

"Aren't you interested at all?"

"The only things that capture my full attention are hats, hatting, the process of hatting, all that surrounds hatting, and tea parties. And Al-...." His tone suddenly went panicky and dark as he muttered off to himself, before shaking himself straight, and walking on.

Fidget felt daring. With all the rules, regulations, orders, and stiff starched clothes gone from her sight she felt more capable than ever. So without any further ado's, she picked up her white trumpet and began to play as loudly and raucously as she possibly could. A jazzy, rhythmic wildness seemed to burst from her blown up cheeks, coming from some unseen reservoir, and Mr. Hatter had to stand a few steps away so as to protect his delicate hearing.

"You're playing awfully loud," he said loudly, shrinking away. Fidget took only a second away to reply, "Yup!" Then she played on, blaring on loud enough to startle a few sound-shocked birds out the trees.

"So loud I may think you should consider the welfare of those with delicate hearing!"

"Don't know any!" Meanwhile Mr. Hatter was forced to clamp his hands even more tightly as he tottered towards a ditch by the path.

"Delicate...hearing...me...ack!" He yelped as he tripped into the thicket. Fidget's playing ended with an erratic honk as she squeaked in panic, hurrying to help the mad man to his feet. "OmigoshI'msosorry-" she blathered.

"My hat!" he yelled again, pointing at the said object rolling away into the woods.

"I'll geddit! I'll geddit!" Fidget exclaimed in a high squeak, making chase after the get-away hat. She bounded through the mushrooms and trees, running faster and farther away from the tumbled-down Hatter. Finally it slowed to a halt. "Aha!" Fidget proclaimed in triumph snatching at it. But as she did so it did the strangest thing; it bobbed upwards...as if caught on a phantom wind. Flabbergasted, but determined, Fidget jumped and swiped at it...her vertically challenged body not aiding any. She was barely brushing the brim when she heard someone.

"You know...you could just say please."

Startled, she looked wildly around. "Whozzair?" she questioned in suspicion. The hat swirled around in the air, and from it materialized the large, plump, widely grinning form....of a cat.

"The Cheshire Cat," he introduced himself, "At your service dear girl." The hat was still out of reach on the branch. Fidget kept jumping at it in vain, trying to reclaim it.

"My name's...Fidget." she introduced back between jumps. "Can you....give it back? Please?" she asked clasping her hands together. "I really need to get it back and Mr. Hatter-"

"Yes, I know..." the Cheshire Cat said, grin still wide as a soup bowl, "Hatter wasn't nimble, Hatter wasn't quick. So Fidget fetches the hat, like the dog fetches the stick." He said in a sing-song voice. He was an extremely odd fellow, even for Wonderland standards. In Dnalrednow, cats did indeed talk...but none were ever so big. And none were ever such obscure shades of purple and blue. And none ever, ever, _ever_ smiled so very peculiarly.

"Err...yes." Fidget replied oddly. The rhyme wasn't very good...but she kept her task in mind. "I need it back please."

"But why should I give it back now?" Cheshire purred lagiudly, floating with only his head, hat topped upon it. "I do love this hat so...and isn't it finder's keeper's?"

"But he'll be so cross if I don't come back with it!" Fidget whined as she jumped him, only for him to swish away, perched atop another branch.

"Convince me."

Fidget racked her brains. Cheshire really liked the hat. Therefore, he wasn't giving it up. But what could Fidet give him to convince him to give it up? She sighed in aggravation, walking around. She then noticed a strange sort of attention from the Cheshire Cat. He was looking a little too eagerly around her waist. Puzzled, she followed his gaze.

Around her waist, she saw the reason for the unexplained attention. Her tunic, stil black and blue, had been tied off with a simple belt of silk rope, but it was from the end of the rope that was most interesting. A pair of tassels, one for each end, swung gently, teasingly out of Cheshire's reach. An idea flashed into Fidget's head. She turned around where the Cheshire Cat could properly see and quickly untied the belt. She then flipped around, waving it temptingly around. The wide-mouthed cat was practically hypnotized, his rump wriggling in anticipation to pounce.

"_You want the tassel? You want it kitty-kitty_?" she said in a babied voice. The Cheshire Cat was growing more solidified, the hat beginning to slip off as he prepared to pounce-

"Here!"

She threw it quickly to the side, and as the Cheshire Cat leaped for the silk rope prey, she leapt forward and grabbed the hat in both hands, feet skidding on the ground as she stuttered to a halt. Cheshire was pawing eagerly at the tassel for a few minutes before realizing the clever trick.

"Very well, very clever," he admitted with a slight sigh, "You win this round young Fidget. But the next time that hat rolls...I'll not be tricked by your tassels again."

"Sure thing kitty," Fidget cooed with a innocent smile. With one last grin, the Cheshire Cat faded, but not before taking up that tempting belt in his mouth, his claws pawing at the dangling threads. Fidget brushed the spare twigs and leaves off the hat before returning to a rather disgruntled Hatter.

"What took you so long?" he complained, securing the hat onto his wild mess of orange hair.

"Just a game." she said, lacing her voice with ill-hidden pride. "Just a little game."


	4. Neeuq Eht Liah Lla

Summary: Wonderland has the ability to drive the most sensible person insane. But on the other side is a place guaranteed to drive you positively sane. Hatter X OC (Depp version)

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"You're late for tea!"

That was the impromptu hello and how'd you do as Fidget barely dodged the porcelain cup that went sailing over her head. Then she found herself sitting crosslegged and a part of the most delightfully unstiff tea party known to man.

"Everything stank like starch," Mr. Hatter went on, embellishing his tale of adventure with occasional iron pressed sock or two, "And so stiff you'd think it'd slept on a bed of iron."

"Well that is mandatory.." admitted Fidget, sipping at a piping hot cup of Darjeeling, "Everyone's concerned about the rigidity of spines."

"And the colors! Only four and more strictly put together than anything I've seen." Mr. Hatter sighed dramatically, drinking as if he'd just returned from a four year mission to a war infested swamp. "Suffocating."

"Mr. Spoon says smash the curling iron fish-face!" squealed Mr. Hare in his deep Scottish timbre, throwing a bent spoon at Mr. Hatter who sensibly ducked. "Rigidity?" Miss Dormouse perked her little ears in disbelief, "Starch and iron beds? What kind of madhouse do you hail from Fidget?"

"Dnalrednow." she replied, nibbling at a scone in between words, "I didn't mind it before but I think I like this world better. I can't exactly leave it now."

"What for?"

"Step back through those caves-" she pointed at the general direction of her and Mr. Hatter's approach, "And I'd be hauled to a court lickety-split. Eee.." she giggled to herself, "I always wanted to say that! But yes...I'd get my fair trial; my horrible, unnecessarily long, boring trial, and then they'd chop my head off. Wham, splat!" she punctuated with a sharp smack on table. Mr. Hare immediately jumped up, throwing a cake platter with a half-eaten cake still on it in the air. "The Bloody Red Queen took a trip to the law firm!" he yelped, and Fidget covered her head to keep most of the raining cake out of her hair. In the short time she'd been here, it was growing and curling like mad. It was still a basic bob...but now it began to fluff over her eyes like a furry sheepdog, tickling her eyelashes.

"Nasty business," Miss Dormouse shook her head agreeingly to a drink.

"Ah, that reminds me," Mr. Hatter looked unusually stern at Fidget. "What did take you so long trying to get my hat?" Fidget looked up sheepishly as she flicked off icing from her tunic.

"Some kitty just tried to make off with it. So I was delayed a bit....Mister...Cheshire I think..." she thought back. Mr. Hatter looked extremely unhappy. "What was that cat doing with my hat?" he grumbled, slumping angrily in his seat.

"He said he liked it...but I managed to distract him with the tassels on my belt." Fidget looked down at her waist in disappointment, "Only now I don't have a belt anymore." Mr. Hatter imeediately began dusting off his hat self-consciously, arousing various sniggers around the table. Fidget stifled a giggle and slurped at her tea. The table was creaky and absolutely overflowing with china dishes and cakes, pot upon pot of teas, but the disorder was comforting. It made Fidget want to upset the table in eagerness and then dance on top the broken pieces it was so nice.

The group was distracted from Mr. Hatter's distress by a rustling in the bushes. A pair of very round twin boys and a rabbit came out of the brush, approaching the tea party. The rabbit was not very much like Mr. Hare, he was much tidier and white...reminding Fidget with a shudder of her home realm. The boys wore matching trousers held up by suspenders, and waddled a bit as they walked.

"Ah, Hightopp. Just in for tea," Mr. Hatter invited. "Then again its always teatime here." Fidget looked to the clock, and sure enough, the hands were frozen at 6 pm exactly; tea-time forever. Mr. Rabbit (considering he was most certainly not a hare) shook his head, brushing back his whiskers in slight exhaustion.

"Tea time will have to wait Tarrant, I'm here on official business."

"And us too!" Mr. Twin #1 exclaimed. Mr. #2 jostled his brother, "No Dum its you and me not 'us'."

"You and me is also an 'us' Dee," Mr. Dum (Fidget was quick to correct herself) argued back with a jostle.

"But we're not an 'us', we're a 'you and me'!"

"You're both wrong," Fidget declared. The entire group went quiet, waiting for her correct answer, "You're a 'collective persons'." Mr. Dee and Mr. Dum nodded in agreement with a slight applause. "Aye that's right, and that's an important title too miss."

"We're important, 'collective persons' indeedy."

"Enough," Mr. Rabbit shushed them. He pulled out a sheet of paper, a seal of a white crown circled by roses on the edge. "We are here to formally greet a Miss....Fidget Quigly?"

"That's me!" Fidget raised her hand, before looking at the clock, "But you're a bit late. I got here an hour ago." Mr. Rabbit immediately went into a panic as he checked his clock to discover that he indeed had been late, had hurriedly yanked Fidget from the table, sending her tea cup flying with the force of the pull. "We're late! We're late!" Fidget waved goodbye to the tea party.

"Bye, bye! Thanks for the tea!" she called, for it was good and proper to say thank you after tea. She then hurried her pace to keep up with Mr. Rabbit's fast pace as Misters Dee and Dum hurried further behind. Miss. Dormouse had shouted something as she ran, but Fidget couldn't quite hear it as Mr. Hare had thrown another teacup which promptly smashed against the wood of a tree. The tinkling sound of breaking china and Miss. Dormouse's squeaks were all she heard before running out of sight.

____

Fidget felt as though her realm had violently thrust itself back at her when she finally arrived at the castle; everything gleamed a pure, snowy white. There was some difference; pink blossoms fell gently from the trees, and other colors could be seen from the garden. But the faded scent of starch came crawling up her nose as she walked in, and she felt compelled to apply hair gel to her now completely mussed hair. It flopped over her face like a blue veil, completely hiding her eyes from sight. But it felt more comfy this way; like a soft fur hat. She liked her hairstyle better when she wasn't in a place where such messiness could get her arrested.

The queen however, made up for the violent reminder of Dnalrednow. She was positively regal, far surpassing the extreme tidiness of Fidget's former king. She seemed to float over the floor, her feet unseen beneath the folds of her white gown. A crown was placed perfectly atop her head, and Fidget felt extremely mangy...like a blue coyote wandered in from the wasteland.

"Miss Quigly," she called in a musical voice. Fidget squeaked. She'd never spoken to anyone with a rank higher than Captain and fell to the floor in a eagle spread, clumsy bow, arms splayed ungracefully. "Oh no please, none of that." she waved a hand delicately. Immediately Fidget snapped up in the best impersonation of a salute she could muster. "Err...yes, your Highness ma'am!"

"Simply, ma'am will do Miss Quigly."

"Yes ma'am!"

The queen smiled before waltzing to a long scroll on a table. Fidget pulled back some hair from her face to look. It was an enormous scroll, and looked as though it would go on forever. Mirana pulled it open and beckoned Fidget forward. Timid in the prescence of royalty, she crept forth and looked over. On the scroll was, amazingly so, Tarrant and Fidget leaving the mouth of the Upside-Down Cave. Below the words, Tegdif Day; the arrival of the first other-sider, was written in neat little words below. Fidget looked politely confused.

"Its, a nice drawing ma'am." she said awkwardly, "But I'm confused still as to why I am here." The queen merely nodded before leading her to a wide balcony. The delicate touch of her hand on Fidget's shoulder made her even more nervous than before...she was pretty sure Queens didn't do that back home.

"We, that is to say all of Underland, once were connected to the 'other-side' as it is referred. But the cave appeared just as the last of them vanished, and ne'er did an other-sider step into our lands until today."

"Well yes ma'am," Fidget replied, "Crossing over here is the death penalty."

"Death penalty? Why I-" she shook her head, "No, I suppose I should have forseen this. They were very secretive when they were alive, the other-siders. But nonetheless," she looked extremely curious. "What is it like now?"

"Very proper ma'am," Fidget explained, "We're only allowed two colors with black and white, and balance and perfection is the order. You could get arrested for an untucked shirt if you're caught. No one on this side is allowed in either, they'd be subjected to the death penalty too if they snuck in."

"And I suppose Tarrant and yourself were lucky to evade capture?"

"Oh well Mr. Hatter was a bit curious and I-" she gulped. She didn't want to bad-mouth her own country, but she couldn't lie to a queen either, "Well I suppose I needed a permanent change of scenery."

"But this is a marvelous opportunity," the queen flourished with her hands, "To reunite our lost friends once more. Think of all the good that would come of it."

"Oh no please ma'am," Fidget began to sweat with panic, "They wouldn't even let me have a hearsay if I went back, they'd just give me my trial and I'd be excuted. And the army is nothing to sneer at either."

"But why all the strictness against their fellow Underlandians?"

"They...they merely feel it is wrong ma'am," winced Fidget. "Ever since I was a little blue baby I was told that this place was the worst. That going here was a sure-fire way to ruin my future. I already know its not true but...but if you met the king, the people who believe this thing, you'd understand."

"They really taught you such things as a baby?" The queen looked shocked at the news. Apparently peace was the last thing on everyone else's mind over there.

"They also told me you all have beasts that gobble up every blue-haired babe that gets lost in the woods," she looked a little anxious at this, "There isn't really such a thing right?"

"Oh only on the occasional orange moon."

Fidget was violently reminded of Mr. Hatter's neon carrot top and shivered. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I just doubt the people in Dnalrednow will want to cooperate with this peace project. They're too insistent on their own culture, it'll be like...like..." Fidget racked her brains for all her lessons on proper rebuttals and descriptions. "Like making soup out of a stone."

"Well that's not a problem. We make soup stone all the time."

"But ma'am that's not the point! If you take so much as one foot over the line that divides Dnalrednow from here, they won't care who you are or what you have to say. Unfortunately we're an extremely fair people; as in we treat anyone who's on trial like a crimnal." The Queen drew her lips into a thin line of distress.

"Sounds...democratic."

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You gotta love that last line. Enjoy and excuse my lateness in postage.


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